Jerry Part 3

CHAPTER III

It was close upon ten when Jerymn Hilliard, Jr., equipped for travel in proper blue serge, appeared in the doorway of the Hotel du Lac. He looked at his watch and discovered that he still had twenty minutes before the omnibus meeting the second boat was due. He strolled across the courtyard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on to his favourite seat in the summer-house. He had barely established himself with a cigarette when who should appear in the gateway but Miss Constance Wilder, of Villa Rosa, and a middle-aged man--at a glance the Signor Papa. Jerymn Hilliard's heart doubled its beat. Why, he asked himself excitedly, _why_ had they come?

The Signor Papa closed his green umbrella, and having dropped into a chair--obligingly near the summer-house--took off his hat and fanned himself. He had a tendency toward being stout, and felt the heat. The girl, meanwhile, crossed the court and jangled the bell; she waited two--three--minutes, then she pulled the rope again.

'Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!'

The bell might have been rung by any one--the fisherman, the omnibus-driver, Suor Celestina from the convent asking her everlasting alms--and Gustavo took his time. But the voice was unmistakable; he waited only to throw a clean napkin over his arm before hurrying to answer.

'_Buon giorno_, signorina! Good morning, signore. It is beautiful wea-thir, but warm. _Gia_, it is warm.'

He bowed and smiled and rubbed his hands together. His moustaches, fairly bristling with good will, turned up in a half-circle until they caressed his nose on either side. He bustled about placing table and chairs, and recklessly dusting them with the clean napkin. The signorina laid her fluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself on another, her profile turned to the summer-house. Gustavo hovered over them, awaiting their pleasure, the genius itself of respectful devotion. It was Constance who gave the order--she, it might be noticed, gave most of the orders that were given in her vicinity. She framed it in English out of deference to Gustavo's pride in his knowledge of the language.

'A gla.s.s of _vino santo_ for the signore and _limonata_ for me. I wish to put the sugar in myself, the last time you mixed it, Gustavo, it was all sugar and no lemon. And bring a bowl of cracked ice--_fino_--_fino_--and some pine nut cakes if you are sure they are fresh.'

'Sank you, signorina. _Subitissimo_!'

He was off across the court, his black coat-tails, his white napkin streaming behind, proclaiming to all the world that he was engaged on the Signorina Americana's bidding; for persons of lesser note he still preserved a measure of dignity.

The young man in the summer-house had meanwhile dropped his cigarette upon the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He had also--with the utmost caution lest the chair creak--shifted his position so that he might command the profile of the girl. The entrance to the summer house was fortunately on the other side, and in all likelihood they would not have occasion to look within. It was eavesdropping of course, but he had already been convicted of that yesterday, and in any case it was not such very bad eavesdropping. The courtyard of the Hotel du Lac was public property; he had been there first, he was there by rights as a guest of the house; if anything, they were the interlopers. Besides, n.o.body talked secrets with a head waiter. His own long conversations with Gustavo were as open and innocent as the day; the signorina was perfectly welcome to listen to them as much as she chose.

She was sitting with her chin in her hand, eyeing the flying coat-tails of Gustavo, a touch of amus.e.m.e.nt in her face. Her father was eyeing her severely.

'Constance, it is disgraceful!'

She laughed. Apparently she already knew or divined what it was that was disgraceful, but the accusation did not appear to bother her much. Mr.

Wilder proceeded grumblingly.

'It's bad enough with those five deluded officers, but they walked into the trap with their eyes open and it's their own affair. But look at Gustavo; he can scarcely carry a dish without breaking it when you are watching him. And Giuseppe--that confounded _Farfalla_ with its yellow sails floats back and forth in front of the terrace till I am on the point of having it scuttled as a public nuisance; and those three washer-women and the post-office clerk and the boy who brings milk, and Luigi and--every man, woman and child in the village of Valedolmo!'

'And my own dad as well?'

Mr. Wilder shook his head.

'I came here at your instigation for rest and relaxation--to get rid of nervous worries, and here I find a big new worry waiting for me that I'd never thought of having before. What if my only daughter should take it in her head to marry one of these infernally good-looking Italian officers?'

Constance reached over and patted his arm.

'Don't let it bother you, Dad; I a.s.sure you I won't do anything of the sort. I should think it my duty to learn the subjunctive mood, and that is impossible.'

Gustavo came hurrying back with a tray. He arranged the gla.s.ses, the ice, the sugar, the cakes, with hovering, elaborate obsequiousness. The signorina examined the ice doubtfully, then with approval.

'It's exactly right to-day, Gustavo! You got it too large the last time, you remember.'

She stirred in some sugar and tasted it tentatively, her head on one side. Gustavo hung upon her expression in an agony of apprehension; one would have thought it a matter for public mourning if the lemonade were not mixed exactly right. But apparently it was right--she nodded and smiled--and Gustavo's expression a.s.sumed relief. Constance broke open a pine nut cake and settled herself for conversation.

'Haven't you any guests, Gustavo?' Her eyes glanced over the empty courtyard. 'I am afraid the hotel is not having a very prosperous season.'

'_Grazie_, signorina. Zer never are many in summer; it is ze dead time, but still zay come and zay go. Seven arrive last night.'

'Seven! That's nice. What are they like?'

'German mountain-climbers wif nails in zer shoes. Zey have gone to Riva on ze first boat.'

'That's too bad--then the hotel is empty?'

'But no! Zer is an Italian signora wif two babies and a governess, and two English ladies and an American gentleman----'

'An American gentleman?' Her tone was languidly interested. 'How long has he been here?'

'Tree--four days.'

'Indeed--what is he like?'

'Nice--ver' nice.' (Gustavo might well say that; his pockets were lined with the American gentleman's silver lire.) 'He talk to me always.

"Gustavo," he say, "I am all alone; I wish to be 'mused. Come and talk Angleesh." Yes, it is true; I have no time to finish my work; I spend whole day talking wif dis yong American gentleman. He is just a little----' He touched his head significantly.

'Really?' She raised her eyes with an air of awakened interest. 'And how did he happen to come to Valedolmo?'

'He come to meet his family, his sister and his--his aunt, who are going wif him to ze Tyrollo. But zay have not arrive. Zey are in Lucerne, he says, where zer is a lion dying, and zey wish to wait until he is dead; zen zey come.--Yes, it is true; he tell me zat.' Gustavo tapped his head a second time.

The signorina glanced about apprehensively.

'Is he safe, Gustavo--to be about?'

'_Si_, signorina, _sicuramente_! He is just a little simple.'

Mr. Wilder chuckled.

'Where is he, Gustavo? I think I'd like to make that young man's acquaintance.'

'I sink, signore, he is packing his trunk. He go away to-day.'

'To-day, Gustavo?' There was audible regret in Constance's tone. 'Why is he going?'

'It is not possible for him to stand it, signorina. Valedolmo too dam slow.'

'Gustavo! You mustn't say that; it is very, very bad. Nice men don't say it.'

Gustavo held his ground.

'_Si_, signorina, zat yong American gentleman say it--dam slow, no _divertimento_.'

'He's just about right, Gustavo,' Mr. Wilder broke in. 'The next time a young American gentleman blunders into the Hotel du Lac you send him around to me.'